


abditory

by joonyoungs



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Violence, Forests, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Strangers to Lovers, Unspecified Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27319735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonyoungs/pseuds/joonyoungs
Summary: Jisung has heard stories, has been warned of the creatures and those with magic in their veins that reside in these woods. They will curse you, carve your heart out of your chest, make it seem as if you never existed at all as you slip into the darkness with them.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	abditory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [actuallyshua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyshua/gifts).



> here is chapter 1 of my Halloween fic! This will _probably_ be 3 chapters but please don't hold me to that. I won't ramble too much but here is the [fic playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6mImwkRGgphkSZ055p1j6n) to set the scene a little bit more.  
> for jarki, my #1 monster fan

”A monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root _monstrum_ , a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr.

To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both a shelter and a warning at once.”  
— Ocean Vuong

⤜ ⤛

The forest is unforgiving, severe in the way it swallows down unprepared travelers. There are too many roots that make you lose your footing, too many wolves that stalk the clearings and call the treelines home. Worst still, are the beings that seem to manifest between the shadows when the sky turns the color of the deepest oceans, the sun plucked from the heavens like a jewel to shield it away from the darkest evils.

Word spreads too quickly, whispered between shopkeepers and yelled across tables in taverns. By sundown, the entire village knows that Jisung is traveling through these woods. By himself, an action completely unwarranted and the source of scrutiny. The men in these parts hunt in groups, there is no reason to venture out into the woods alone. Not when there is a rise in attacks, too many stories of people entering the forest only to be never heard from again or worse— falling prey to the ideologies of witches.

And so, Jisung finds himself the subject of a hunt.

Legs pumping as he runs, quiver slamming against his back when he turns a sharp corner behind a mess of rocks. His cloak catches on a branch as he weaved through a dense cluster of trees, Jisung desperately twisting around and cutting a section of the fabric away with his dagger. The footsteps had gotten closer then, or at least Jisung thinks they do. It is difficult to tell such things when your own heartbeat pounds hot in your ears.

The sun is setting, his lungs are nearly bursting with the cool fall air rushing through them as he tries to escape. He is running out of time.

He runs like he’s chasing the sun, falling over the horizon like a torch being thrown into the darkness. He watches it disappear as his boots pound onto the dirt floor, his heel nearly clipping a rock when he stops to reevaluate his surroundings. Jisung is so deep in the forest, the trees surrounding him are unmarked by the average hunter’s arrows or swords. It is eerie in the way that he seems to step into a world untouched by man, the echoes of the mob bouncing off the cliffside somewhere in the distance.

He is exhausted, legs screaming and fire in his chest. Jisung’s back slumps against a tree trunk, obscuring his body as much as he can from the main pathway where he thinks the hunters will come from. He allows himself only a moment to rest, body aching against the great oak tree behind him.

And then he hears it, the unfamiliar yet deeply unsettling sound of branches snapping, as if something is moving from the canopy of trees above him. Bark is splintering as something heavy jumps from branch to branch, getting closer to the ground. Closer to Jisung.

Jisung’s heart is in his throat, his eyes wide as he scans the treelines in a darkness not meant for humans to process. He can tell it comes from _somewhere_ in front of him, eyes not able to make out any foreign bodies laying against the forest floor. The sound is unmistakable, the kind of thing that makes your body tense up and your mind race, but he cannot see anything.

Until he does.

A figure, dark as ink and the crushed-up Nightshade in vials Jisung buys from the apothecary, is moving towards him at frightening speeds. He barely even has the time to shudder a breath and think before the being presses his body against the roughness of the tree trunk.

The man— the _creature,_ Jisung must remind himself _—_ breathes, air hot against Jisung’s face. He is deceptively human, when Jisung focuses on certain features. Eyes that pierce the soul when he looks through dark lashes, lips parted like he has something to say. Horns that twist up towards the heavens, the night around them too dark to validate any further detail. Strong arms, with tanned skin that turns the color of ink as Jisung’s eyes travel to his hands. It’s as if he’s dipped his hands into oil, seemingly slicked black but with no dampness, hue baked into his muscles and tendons.

Jisung has heard stories, has been warned of the creatures and those with magic in their veins that reside in these woods. They will curse you, carve your heart out of your chest, make it seem as if you never existed at all as you slip into the darkness with them. These are the kind of tales that strike fear in your chest like a fire, crackling and growing with every bit of kindling thrown onto it. And yet, Jisung feels no fear. Only the warmth and safety of those dark eyes looking at him, eyes on the face of what looks achingly like a man and not some horrible being.

“You know what will happen if they capture you,” he speaks, voice like the night sky above them.

Jisung’s eyes dart around him, caged between the tree and the being’s arms. He cannot see the torches in the night, but he can hear the voices of the hunters in between the cracks of the forest. “Yes,” he breathes, voice stuck in his throat when he thinks of all the bodies pulled from this forest. All of the betrayers that were killed as revenge, as a lesson to those who think about venturing into the darkness surrounding the village. He knows that the threat of the people chasing him are very real, and that the man in front of him is not some imposing being that he had heard stories about. The way he shields Jisung’s body against the tree is not menacing, but rather protective. It makes something shift in Jisung’s mind, a decision made in an instant.

It is then that Jisung finds his words. “Will you hide me?”

He does not falter, does not make any signs of protest at Jisung’s request. He just sighs, like the breath has been stolen from his lungs, and pulls Jisung forward. In a motion fluid as water, Jisung is on the man’s back, arms looped around his shoulders and knees gripped in the man’s hands.

This close, Jisung can see the man’s horns are black and unnaturally smooth— like he was marble carved into something humanoid.

And then they are moving, faster than Jisung thought could be possible. Jisung throws his arms around the man, tucking his face into his shoulder as they move seamlessly through the trees. It’s all a blur in Jisung’s vision, just shades of grays and browns and the pitch navy of night. What is clear, though, is the sound of the hunters is getting farther away, until it is a whisper at their backs, until it is nothing at all.

Jisung doesn’t know how long they travel for, but soon the man carrying him slows until he is walking, quiet feet against the fallen leaves. Even this close, Jisung can barely hear him make noise, can barely hears him _breathe—_

Like cutting through a fog, the trees seem to part and the foliage around them turns to a gentle meadow. There is a sense of peace that wraps around Jisung like the cloak against his back, like the warmth of the man’s hands around his legs, like the comforting sight of the small cottage coming into view as Jisung finds himself carried up to it.

And then, Jisung meets the darkness of sleep like a welcome friend.

⤜ ⤛

The sunlight streams through the window, bed beneath Jisung's body warming from the sun. He blinks, eyes adjusting to the light of day as he forces his body through the sluggishness of his dreams— of screaming voices, of feet pounding against the forest floor, of the horror that whispers in his ear that would be torn limb by limb. As he sits up in bed, the truth comes to Jisung that this was _not_ a dream, that there really was a group of villagers who wanted his blood to coat the leaves beneath his feet and his body to be displayed in the center of the village. A reminder— that those who have magic in their veins should not travel here, are not welcome between the walls that protect these humans from the surrounding tainted forest.

He feels a sharp ache near the center of his spine as he shifts, muscles cramping on both of his sides as he leans forward and hisses. He squeezes his eyes shut, head pressed into the bedding around his body as he waits for the spasm to pass. The memories are coming back to him clearer and clearer now as the pain sears his body. Jisung knows the exhaustion and adrenaline that coarse through his body the night before was simply too much, that there was no way to escape such a night with both his mind and body unphased.

He blinks through bleary vision, tears pricking in his eyes as he takes a deep breath. The pain shifts to a dull reminder of what was, nestled against his backbone as he sits up and takes a breath.

The thought makes Jisung feel sick, makes him unable to breathe. He is just like them, a human who fears what exists in the trees that surround their home and shun their eyes from the figures that snap branches and carve their claws against tree trunks in the darkness. And then it comes rushing over him like another wave, a much more immediate fear that looms over him and makes his heart pound. His fists ball up the bedding beneath his body, unfamiliar in its touch. His eyes scan the small bedroom, bed pushed against a far wall and nestled beneath a window mostly obscured by makeshift curtains.

A scream wedges itself in his throat, but cannot escape. He is not in his room.

His blood runs hot in his veins, his heart working fast in his chest as he looks around wildly. He needs his bow, he needs his dagger, he needs _something_ of his own—

The unmistakable sound of a door opening in another room makes him nearly jump out of his skin, but Jisung suddenly finds himself frozen. There is an unmistakable _thud_ of something heavy falling to the floor, and Jisung wants to clutch the bedcovers and throw them over his head, diving back into the bed and shutting his eyes to convince himself that this is simply another layer to his dream. He will wake soon back in his tiny room in the village, none of the events of the past day existing outside of his own imagination.

There is rustling in the other room, movement that confirms to Jisung that someone else is _here_ , in this space that Jisung has no recollection of. He braces himself for whatever could face him on the other side of the door, helpless without a weapon at his disposal. Until there is, on a shelf by the window Jisung spots an ornate candelabra with two prongs like horns as they are carved out of some sort of dark metal. It feels heavy in his hand as Jisung kneels on the bed to grab it, twirling it once in his grip before holding it over his head in the most threatening way he can manage. The door pushes open, gently, unassuming as if it was a parent checking in on a child and not a stranger coming to greet Jisung in the early breaths of morning.

And then, the eyes. The familiar and shockingly kind eyes of the creature that looks like a man take Jisung in. Nobody moves for a moment, until the being takes his hand from the edge of the door and stands there, not threatening but enough to make Jisung’s head spin.

There are a thousand questions on the tip of Jisung’s tongue, countless words ready to spill from his mouth. The most obvious one leaves first. “Where am I?”

An arch of a brow, that same smooth voice that greeted him the night before. “My home.” The man, Jisung’s half awake mind supplies himself only with the label _Him_ , speaks. “It’s safe, nobody even got close.”

The words are reassuring, if not strange. Jisung cannot fathom why a stranger, one that is clearly not human, is making an effort to keep him safe. Why He did not simply carve out his heart with the long inky claws in place of fingers that He had the night before, Jisung doesn’t know. Perhaps Jisung’s instinct was correct, or perhaps He is playing some sort of game with him.

“You’re real,” Jisung mutters, a little in awe and a little in fear. He furrows his brow and looks at him with an expression that Jisung cannot name.

“Yes,” He answers simply, and His voice shifts to a gentler tone. “I think you fainted at some point.” Jisung’s eyes go wide and he scrambles out of the bed.

“Oh!” Jisung says, startled both by the words and the cold wooden floor that greets his feet when he moves as far away from the bed as the tiny room will allow. His face flushes in embarrassment, as the candelabra hangs loosely in his grip by his legs. Jisung looks at Him with a sheepish expression, sputtering out an _I’m so sorry_ over clumsy lips.

He looks at Jisung, and for a moment Jisung swears there’s a flash of amusement on His face. In an instant it’s gone and He speaks. “It’s alright, really.”

Jisung’s head feels heavy, confusion and shock and fear blending together into a haze in front of his eyes, and he shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. At the action, He looks at Jisung’s feet and then at the floor around him. He makes no effort to come further into the room, instead standing in the middle of the doorway.

“I think,” He speaks, startling Jisung out of his thoughts. “I think they’re still searching nearby, but they’ll be gone by nightfall.”

Jisung nods, absorbing the information and trying to clear his mind all at once. He takes in his wrinkled clothes, his bare feet on the floor, the heavy makeshift weapon in his hand, and Jisung finds he feels more embarrassed than scared. In the light of day, He is even less threatening, and Jisung feels rising guilt at the idea of ever looking for something to strike the man with. Jisung rests the candelabra on a small table tucked in the corner of the room, wiping his sweaty hands on his tunic. Jisung clears his throat, looks up properly for the first time to say what he should have long before.

“Thank you,” Jisung replies, voice soft in the morning light. The man looks like He doesn’t know what to do with the words, the gratitude not seeming to sit right with Him.

And that’s when Jisung sees it— He looks like a man. No sign of any claws, no horns peeking through His hair. There is no indicator that the man in front of Jisung was ever the same creature that jumped from a canopy of trees and rescued him from certain death just the night before. Jisung cannot help the rising of his voice when he speaks again.

“You—” Jisung cries, pointing at the man without thinking. “You look like a man!”

The man stands there, brow creasing in the center of His forehead at what Jisung says. He scoffs, and rubs His very human-like hand across his face. “Come to the main room and I will tell you. Breakfast is ready, anyway.”

The words are so startlingly human, so casual, as if they were lifelong friends and not strangers who have met not even an entire day before. Jisung blinks several times, looking at the stranger’s back as He disappears into the main room. Jisung follows Him, out into a modest living quarters. On the table are a few modest servings of food, what appears to be berries piled into a smooth wooden bowl. The man’s back is to Jisung, mixing something in a cast iron pan over a small fire. A hand reaches down and grabs a single log of firewood, placing it on the glowing blue flame. Jisung watches it lap up, peeling and burning away the outer bark slowly. At the man’s feet, there is a small pile of logs neatly stacked.

The man looks over his shoulder, glancing at Jisung for a moment. “I had to get firewood,” he says simply. “I was low.”

Jisung’s brain slowly starts to work again, and he replies. “That was the noise I heard,” he says, looking up at the man. A flash of guilt flashes over His face.

“Did it wake you?” He asks, reaching a hand to pull out a chair. He motions for Jisung to sit, which he does after a few awkward moments of shuffling across the cold floor. As Jisung sinks into the chair, he immediately feels the warmth of the fire and an unfamiliar spicy scent that fills his nose.

Jisung shakes his head, as he leans in to see what’s in the pot. “No,” he answers. “The sun did.”

He nods at Jisung’s words, stirring the pot of what appears to be stew. It occurs to Jisung that He might feel uncomfortable, a stranger leaning into his personal space in his own home. Jisung clears his throat and leans back subtly, giving him a sheepish smile before he looks down at his own hands. Jisung is aware he should feel a sense of fear, feel strange to be in this home— and yet, he doesn’t.

Jisung watches as He ladles the stew into a bowl, placing it in front of Jisung before taking a little for himself. He sits across from Jisung, the steam of the food curling up and partially obscuring his face. Jisung blinks once, twice, wondering how to start such a strange conversation.

“I’m sure you’re wondering,” He begins, beating Jisung to it. “A lot of things.”

“You look different,” Jisung says, taking one of the utensils on the table. He stirs the stew and finds comfort at the sight of familiar vegetables floating around. His head snaps up after a moment, eyes wide at how forward the statement was. “I mean! I’m sor—”

“It’s okay,” He replies, and Jisung realizes he’s laughing under his breath. He takes a small bite of the meal in front of him, taking his time before he answers. “I can shift in and out of,” he pauses, looking for the words. “Bodies.”

It’s a bizarre statement, one Jisung should find unsettling. Everything spoken to him in the past tells him to run, to pick up one of the knives on this table and plunge it into His chest.

And yet.

“Okay,” Jisung says, spooning a little stew into his mouth. It’s the first bit of food he’s had in over a day, and he tries not to sigh in relief. It’s good, the richness dancing on his tongue and temporarily making him forget everything that has happened lately. In a short amount of time he’s staring at a nearly-empty body, and a quiet chuckle breaks him out of his thoughts.

“How long were you out there?” He asks, looking at Jisung with amusement. With the morning sun behind Him peeking through the window, He looks deceivingly innocent.

Jisung finds himself looking at Him in awe, before the words hit him and he shrinks down in the chair.

“Just about a day,” Jisung mutters, shoulders practically shrugs up towards his ears. He feels embarrassed, so he takes a breath before forcing himself to continue the conversation. “Is it really safe out there?”

The words make something on His face shift, looking contemplative before He speaks. It’s as if He’s choosing His words carefully, before his gaze travels upwards and he looks at Jisung. “Yes, they can’t get anywhere near here,” He says, voice a little quiet. His next words are louder, like He’s slowly finding confidence in what he says. “Can’t even see it.”

Jisung frowns, not understanding. “It looks like we’re in the middle of a meadow, how can nobody see it?”

The man looks at him plainly, blinking several times as if it was obvious. When He realizes Jisung is being serious, His lips curl into the faintest of smiles. “This place is enchanted, all humans see are trees.”

Jisung feels like he has to pick his jaw up off the floor, so he snaps it shut and shakes his head. A part of him believes the action will help make the words make more sense, but when he looks back at Him he’s still confused. “What?”

The man smiles softly, a little wider this time. “I have many talented friends, this place has been hidden for longer than you’ve been alive.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, feeling breathless all over again. This time it isn’t from the words, but the shot of pain that travels up his back. He flinches, spoon clattering against the bowl as he shuts his eyes for a moment.

A breath in, a breath out.

When he opens his eyes, the man is looking at him with concern.

“Are you alright?” He asks, hand— Jisung is still surprised it’s human— reaches across the table but hovers in the air before touching Jisung.

Jisung breathes out through his nose, straightening his posture as best as he can. “I think last night hit me harder than I thought it did,” he answers, turning his arm a little behind him to touch the muscles around his spine. “Sorry about that, I should be a little better by tomorrow.”

“If you say so,” He says, voice calm. “But if you’re injured, you should stay here until you’re better.”

Jisung shakes his head, rolling his neck a little and feeling a pinch of a nerve traveling down his body. “I can’t take up any more of your time, you’ve already done too much for me,” he says, and then Jisung looks at Him again. Jisung is quickly fathering that compliments and gratitude don’t suit the man in front of him, but he offers them up anyway. “Thank you, again. For saving me.”

The man’s eyes are clouded with an emotion Jisung can’t name, and for a moment he wonders if he spoke out of turn. He doesn’t reply with words at first, just nodding slowly and stirring his food in front of him. By the time He speaks again, the food in front of him has gone cold, and Jisung’s heart feels heavy in his chest.

“It was the right thing to do.”

⤜ ⤛

**Author's Note:**

> **abditory—** (n.) _a place into which you can disappear; a hiding place_
> 
> this was more of an introductory chapter, showing how Jisung and Changbin meet— under quite strange circumstances, it seems. Now onto the juicy stuff.   
>  come say hi on twitter or cc, promise I won't be as scary as a mob chasing you through the woods!
> 
> [twitter (I have a new @!)](twitter.com/joonyien) / [cc](curiouscat.me/realkevmoon)


End file.
